Brother
by Nothing Really Specific
Summary: "Brotherhood means laying down your life for somebody, really willing to sacrifice yourself for somebody else." –Tim Hetherington. A story about Reepicheep and Trufflehunter's friendship during VDT.
1. To the Ends of the Earth

**BROTHER**

Inspired by the **_Lonesome Dreams_** album by Lord Huron

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><p><strong>Chapter I: <strong>**To the Ends of the Earth**

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><p><em>It's time to say goodbye, but I think goodbyes are sad and I'd much rather say hello. Hello to a new adventure.<em>

_-Ernie Harwell_

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><p>As bitter salt was whipped by the wind, harmonious sirens surfaced. Singing a song of good fortune for the journey, the maidens of the sea waved at the men who were loading crates of apples, cherries, and pomegranates up onto the vast deck of the regal ship.<p>

The Dawn Treader, the finest vessel to embark on water, bore the colors of purple and gold in weaves of curls and ridges. The mast was strong and never creaked, being made of solid cherry with a stained finish. The massive sails, when taught, swayed ever so lightly even in windless weather, making it seem as if the ship were dancing. The flags of the king hoisted high into the air like a beacon of sense in a sea of blind ambition flurried into a field of unknown certainty. In the midst of this calm clamor and prestige stood two brothers who, like most when leaving for a final time, said goodbye in the longest way possible.

"So, I take I can't change your mind?"

"Even if you dragged me by the tail."

Trufflehunter laughed, for he had half a mind to do so. Seeing his friend embark on the adventure they dreamed about The Badger wondered if he could muster up the courage join him. For he was just as enthusiastic as he was and yet, Trufflehunter was content to leave ambition and dreams behind in his youth. For he had, not better things, but more practical things, to do. There was dinner to prepare, books to write and read, songs to be sung, and children to put to bed. The adventure of fatherhood was enough for him and upon gazing at his friend, who was the bulwark of his life, leave and do the thing he dared Trufflehunter simply smiled.

"You're finally doing it Reepicheep," the Badger said as his eyes slowly became wet. "I've never been so proud."

"You are sounding like my father, you can stop any time." Reepicheep replied with a slight eye roll and grin.

"Yes," Trufflehunter continued, "but you're going away for who knows how long- months, years even…"

The Badger paused with a sigh, thinking to himself the words that might motivate him to take himself and his bag full of medical supplies, books, and pens, which he carried on his back, onto the boat so that this conversation of depression can end and at least for a time, return to normalcy. Instead, he looked to the ground as if there was something more interesting there and when his mouth found the words to speak again he looked up into Reepicheep's eyes as a single tear ran down his cheek.

"This truly may be the last time I see you."

"I know," The Mouse replied, himself finding it difficult to repress emotion that was natural to give began to feel his heart break into millions of little pieces. "But I sincerely hope it will not be. I have half a mind to drag you up that ramp and force you to journey with me. But I will not, because you have a life here and I cannot deprive a man of his life."

"You have a life here too-"

"No!" Reepicheep quipped with a glare, "I had one, it was well lived, it was beautiful. The happiest years I could ask for and you were and still remain to be my bravest friend. But to say that I have a life here would be cheating me of a life somewhere else."

"If it's because of what happened-"

Reepicheep shook his head, "It is not because of what happened, Truff." He turned towards the bank and towards the ship, seeing or perhaps wanting to see the future that lay ahead. Dismissing the past completely and forgetting it would have been a lovely thought to possess. The Mouse looked at the sails and seeing their majesty flourish made him take a solemn breath of bitter salty air.

"It is because of what did not happen." He continued. Turning around facing a confused Badger, Reepicheep's expression of fondness changed. His eyes became less welcoming and knowing, his tail became a sadistic swinging pendulum, slowly moving from left to right and left again, the only sameness in him was his voice.

"Could you have saved them?" The Mouse asked.

_Yes, I could have, but that is the answer you wish me not to say._ The Badger thought.

"Come now," Trufflehunter said, "let us avert solemnity." He advanced with a sincere smile, and noticed that Caspian and the Captain were beginning to go up the ramp and onto the deck.

Following them were a group of seven men who were carrying crates of potatoes, radishes, and tomatoes. Mostly, these people were denizens of the fishing towns of Venice and Jaxsby, both of which lay thirteen miles south and forty miles from the Archenland border with Venice being slightly north of Jaxsby by two and a half miles and more on the coast. There was Kale, a fisherman by trade, Cassius, his son, Harper, a merchant of gold and silk, Eris, his daughter, Julius, a swordsman, Ducada, his apprentice, and finally Monroe, a philosopher.

Behind them, carrying in their arms and on their backs, weapons of small, medium, and large ranging from swords, axes, to javelins, were a group of eight Narnians: three Centaurs, Bigleaf and High Father, two Satyrs, Evander and Jeter, two Fauns, Christian and Marlene, and one Minotaur whose name was Tavros.

Trufflehunter turned towards the monarch and seaman and become servile despite the lack of chains and mistreatment but eating all the humble pie.

"Safe travels Sire," The Badger said somewhat loud for Caspian to hear, "I wish you the best of luck."

Caspian smiled, his face beaming like the sun. "The same to you friend. Are you sure you wish to stay? You are more than welcome to sojourn with us."

"Believe me Sire," Trufflehunter replied as he stood erect once again, "as much as I would love to accompany you I'm afraid my heart calls me here. I would be too afraid to leave it, not because of cowardice or lack of sea-legs, but because of business unfinished."

"I understand Master Badger," Caspian said, "go forth in your business and once it is finished, you are welcome in my court and council."

The regent turned towards the sky, seeing a large mass of gray advance upon the blue producing the beginnings of a livid storm. "Come Reepicheep," Caspian said, "time to disembark."

The Mouse nodded and turned to his friend whom at the moment, was taking his backpack off his person and placing it on the ground.

"Mathias Trufflehunter what are you doing?" Reepicheep asked.

"Parting gift," Trufflehunter answered as he sat the green leather bag on the ground. "Figure you might need it. Just a few odds and ends."

Reepicheep laughed and inspected the bag for a moment, noticing that the stitching was beginning to fray and the leather was starting to mildew. Nevertheless he opened it and saw that the Badger had beautifully prepared a small first-aid kit, some light provisions and an original copy of his master work, _Of Law and Serenity_, which upon seeing that, Reepicheep smiled and shook his head.

"You are giving me your book?" He said.

"Why would I need a book I wrote?" Trufflehunter replied. "I wrote it for you anyway."

The Mouse closed the bag, placed it on his person and adjusted his weight for balance. "Heavier and larger than expected but all the grateful for it. I wish I had things to give you, but alas I do not."

"My father once was told me that if you ever meet a person who would treat you as a brother then you'd be the luckiest Badger in all of Ken. I can proudly say that I am the luckiest Badger."

"And I am so glad you are. It has been an honor Sir."

Trufflehunter shook his head and smiled, "I'm not a knight Reepicheep, I am just a Badger."

Reepicheep ascended the ramp without saying anything else. For if there were any more delays then the storm would be upon them and they would have to postpone the journey 'til tomorrow. When he reached the top he sat his bag down and turned back to his friend, seeing nothing but a large grin on his face.

"You are not just a Badger," Reepicheep called down so his friend could hear, "you are a scholar and a sentry!"

The Badger smiled and laughed at this, feeling that for a final time phrases of encouragement could be said between them face to face as if it were a day in winter when the final leaf from the tree fell and all that was cared about was the fish on the fire or the strew in the pot. Another tear for another epiphany, the myth of his friend leaving had finally become reality to him. So in a last attempt of seizing normal Trufflehunter called in the loudest voice he could, "Go forth and make me proud!"

The ramp was removed and placed on the ground. As the ship left the bay, the sirens finished their serenade and disappeared into the sea and the well-wishers that had gathered there despised back into their lives, all save for Trufflehunter who kept his gaze eastward until he could no longer make out the purple and gold ship and its bright sails as it raced ahead of the storm.

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><p><strong>Many thanks to my beta, WriterWilf, for the help and time. If you have time, I would encourage you reading his work.<strong>

**Also, for those who celebrate: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy Kwanzaa.**

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><p><strong>-Next Chapter-<strong>

**_Chapter II: Time to Run_**


	2. Time to Run

**Chapter II: Time to Run**

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><p>Moi droog: "friend" in Russian. Pronunciation: (moy-d-rouge)<p>

Сын: "son" in Russian. Pronunciation: (sin)

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><p><em>"Grief is the price we pay for love." –Queen Elizabeth II<em>

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><p>Sitting in a wooden chair at the dinner table with his nose in a law book, Hallam waited patiently for his father to return from the docks. Stopping for a moment, just before the section on ethics and after the section of rhetoric, The Junior Badger looked up across from him and saw a faded etching of his mother. Although it was simple and not very well done, the etching captured one particular detail of his mother that Hallam, and frankly Trufflehunter, could both agree was the best physical quality- her eyes, which intoxicated the beholder in a glance of warm embrace.<p>

"How was she loved," Hallam said with a smirk, "How was she loved indeed."

The aspiring lawyer stood from his chair and stretched a moment, rolling his shoulders, shaking his paws, and jumping in place to wake himself up from the dreary articulate nature that was the three-thousand five hundred and eighty-seven page monstrosity known as _The Precise Way of the Law_ by Fairbanks Mullengrave.

Entering the living room from an adjacent small library, Kashmir, the former King of Milland, looked slightly confused as to why Hallam was exercising instead of preparing for his future career. The Owl said nothing as he crossed the dirt floor making his way to a small green chair that was nestled warmly near a fireplace and a bookshelf. He sat down and watched as The Junior Badger began to pace the width of the room.

"You know Kashmir," Hallam said, "I've been thinking a lot about your situation recently and I've come to the conclusion that you can sue your country for exiling you."

The Owl laughed and shook his head, "You'd be dead within a week moi droog. Besides, I don't think there needs to be a legal battle."

Hallam stopped in his tracks and turned towards Kashmir, looking at him as if he were insane. His eyes became bulbous and his mouth agape.

"Forgive me Your Majesty," he said, "but I think you're wrong. You most certainly will go to court and you will win. Be it by my wits or your strength I shall see you seated on the Great Throne in the West."

Kashmir smiled and shook his head, "Forgive me Court Badger, but I am not a King anymore. I am simply an Owl."

"If you were just an Owl," Hallam replied, "then you'd be feasting on me right now. No, Kashmir, you're an exiled regent of a beautiful country. I promise to fight your case."

"Why? It's not like Damien will step down any time soon." Kashmir said as he relaxed his muscles and let his wings drape over the arms of the chair as he grabbed a small tattered ottoman by his talons and pulled it closer. The poor piece of furniture scraped across the floor, making an unpleasant sound and two small ruts that were crooked and shallow, much like Kashmir's talons, which had grown smaller due to war and wear over the years.

"Damien forced you out. There must be reprimands." Replied The Junior Badger as he resumed his pacing, kicking loose bits of dirt around. He paused and heard a grim hacking sound come from one of the back rooms.

Hallam sighed and shook his head, not wanting to believe what his heart and what his head told him. His little brother, an orphan adopted into the house three years ago, was close to meeting his parents, and even though that reunion would be happy, it would break Hallam's heart and it would kill Trufflehunter- to have another episode of grim over the house would be too much for his aging heart to bear.

"Please tell me it's not what I think it is." Hallam said.

Kashmir nodded solemnly, "It is." The Owl stood from his chair and walked slowly over to him trying his best not to wince in pain too much.

"Are you alright?" The Junior Badger asked.

"Old war wounds," Kashmir replied, "I'm not as young as I used to be."

The Owl ruffled his feathers, removing bits of lint and twigs that somehow managed to be entangled in his once gold colored feathers, which were beginning to gray. Hallam looked into Kashmir's eyes and noticing that the right one still bore a scar across it, couldn't help but see love and fear in them. A history of war, struggle and a life poorly spent all flashed before Hallam as if the mammal were seconds from death and yet, Kashmir pulled him back to reality with a pat on the shoulder curtesy of his left wing.

In a voice that was filled with both hope and fear, the once proud regent of Milland nodded his head and turned towards the hallway from which he entered upon hearing the sound of more coughing and a frail voice which bore the quintessence of innocence.

"Uncle Kashmir, when is father coming back?"

The Owl shook his head, the mere thought of hearing that poor child's voice broke his heart and knowing that there was nothing to be done was the same as driving a stake through his heart. Nevertheless, Kashmir carefully walked through the threshold of the living room and turned to his immediate left, standing in the doorway of a small frail badger who was another son to him.

"I don't know сын. Do you want me to sing a song for you to help you get back to sleep?"

"Yes please." The child answered.

Kashmir cleared his throat and in the sweetest voice he could sang the only lullaby he knew. It bore no name but it told the story of a brave soldier returning home from war and finding that his love still cared for him. When he reached the chorus, his voice soared into pureness that even a blue jay could not possess, for this was not a blue jay's song. It was Kashmir's song. A song that he bled for, a song that reminded him of what peace was. To sing it to anyone was the greatest honor he could give, and the melodic memory of love was perhaps the best medicine he could conjure.

As The Owl sang, Hallam watched and became mesmerized by how much he cared. There was always the impression that owls were harbingers of death in a negative sense. There was never anything positive or uplifting about the sage-ness of death, and even though Kashmir could predict the solemn grief stricken act of life in his own way, Hallam knew there was love and care. For he saw no malice, no evil, just a sad singing bird.

The Junior Badger walked over to Kashmir when he was finished, noticing that the bird had placed his right wing over his eyes to cover the tears.

"Why are you crying Uncle Kashmir?" The frail voice asked with all the sweetness in the world.

"Don't worry my dear," Kashmir said wiping his eyes and producing a fake smile, "I'm just tired and sad that's all."

"Why are you sad?"

"Because I'll be leaving soon." Kashmir answered.

"Are you going away just like Uncle Reepicheep is?"

Kashmir shook his head and entered the room quietly. It was small but befitting a kit whose spirit was that of his father, his heart that of his mother, and his voice all his own. The little one was nestled snug in a hand-woven blanket, propped up against the headboard in a bed that was slightly too large for him. To the right was a small nightstand with a candle and a musty book, the standard and most necessary gift for a future orator of history, _Narnian Tales, Myths, and Legend_s by Dyson Gracie.

A large rug covered most of the floor and on the far wall stood a bookshelf with home-made wooden toys and balls all delicately hand painted in reds, yellows, blues, magentas, and nice lavenders by Bede, a ferret who was the local physician. The walls were made of dirt and the window, although panned in glass, was covered in grime, the sun's rays, although having good intentions, casted a reaper's shadow over the place. In opposition, Kashmir stood in the shadow of the grim and stood firmly on the rug. Despite his claim of leaving soon, Kashmir was going to make sure he would leave before this innocent son of Mathias Trufflehunter did.

"I don't think I'll need a voyage to go where I'm going, George." Kashmir said.

George, the small weak badger in the bed, nodded slowly and coughed a bit, this time producing a bit of blood. "W-why did he go so soon? He didn't even say goodbye to me."

The bird walked to George's bedside and caressed him gently on the cheek. "I'm sure he meant to, perhaps he just couldn't."

"I suppose. I bet father said our goodbyes for us." George said, taking an asthmatic breath and wheezing slightly. "I-I don't want to be sick anymore."

The Owl shook his head as he closed his eyes, sighed and refused to look upon the face of a dying child who wanted so much to live more than anything.

"Uncle Kashmir," George continued, "are you okay?"

Kashmir opened his eyes and witnessed a young badger with a slightly showing rib cage, a barrel shaped chest, and frail, thin appendages. It was like looking into the eyes of a sweet skeleton, with all the skin and bones still there.

"Yes," the bird said, "would you like something to eat?"

"Do you have any more of that soup?" George asked. "That was delicious."

Kashmir smiled, "Anything else?"

"Whenever father gets here," George said, "can you send him in?"

"Of course." Kashmir replied as he slowly crossed the expanse of the floor, allowing his mahogany tail feathers to lightly droop across the dirt.

When he passed the shadow of the window, and noticing that it still resembled a reaper, Kashmir purposefully turned his back towards the window and clawed the top of the shadow on his way out.

Trufflehunter entered the house looking as if he lost the most important thing in the world. His eyes frantically searched for an answer he knew was not there but when he heard Kashmir enter the room the Badger sighed in relief.

"How is he?" Trufflehunter asked, a bit breathy, for in truth, he ran the last half mile to get home in time for supper.

In the most sincere way he could, The Owl said nothing and walked towards the kitchen and prepared the requested meal. He jumped up a bit, grabbed a bowl from the higher shelf with his beak and wandered into the living room, situating himself near the pot that hung over the fireplace. With his right talon he began filling the bowl with the simplest chicken broth in the world- the ingredients were chicken broth and a dash of pepper. Nothing else. It was soup- the humblest meal Kashmir had ever prepared for a person and because of George's humility the former regent cried.

"He wants Soup." Kashmir said beneath his grief. He stopped pouring, seeing that the bowl was full and made his way for the door with tears running down his face. "He wants damn Soup!"

Trufflehunter turned towards his friend and then at the lonely bowl of soup. He walked over to it, gently picked it up and made his way to his son's room with the best smile he could muster and the happiest thought he could think of- the day George first arrived on his doorstep in a foundlings box with a small note saying simply, 'Please love and care for him'.

Upon seeing his father, George smiled and outstretched his hands for an embrace. "Father!" He cried as loud as he could, which wasn't loud and still relatively soft.

"Hello George," Trufflehunter said as he moved for the bedside, placing the soup bowl on the nightstand and sitting on the edge of the bed. "Have you been good today?"

"Yes," George inevitably said, "is he gone?"

Trufflehunter nodded, "Yes, Uncle Reepicheep is gone but he sends his love."

_"Actually,"_ The Badger thought, _"what you meant to say was, he forgot to come and say goodbye to you. I guess that's one promise he won't be keeping. Out of all the promises to break Reepicheep, you choose the one that meant the most and I honestly can't forgive you for it."_

"Do you suppose we'll see him again?"

"I sure hope so," Trufflehunter replied with a smile secretly thinking to himself 'so I can wring his little neck a bit' as he loving embraced his son for one of the final times. "Now, let's eat and get some rest, hmm?"

George nodded and as Trufflehunter was about to spoon-feed him his supper, Kashmir's crying could be heard from the living room.

"Is Uncle Kashmir alright?" George asked.

Trufflehunter sighed and nodded slowly, wanting to believe and hope that Kashmir was fine but knowing full well that he saw and understood the future.

"He's fine George," The Badger said, "He just loves you."

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><p><strong>-Next Chapter-<strong>

_**Chapter III: Dreaming Again of a Lonesome World**_


	3. Dreaming Again of a Lonesome World

**Chapter III: Dreaming Again of a Lonesome World**

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><p><em>"There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more."<em>  
><em>-Lord Byron<em>

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><p>Upon the wooden railing of the Dawn Treader stood the arms of King Caspian X. The body of said regent was rather poised as if he were contemplating the meaning of the word 'philosophy'. His eyes were distant and his hair was being whipped ever so lightly by the wind, as if the forces of nature were caressing, guiding, and blessing him simultaneously. The crew were busy handling ropes, tying them into knots: the sheepshank, the square, the bowline, the half-hitch, the taut line, the timber, and yes, even the overhand, to manage the main sail and its brothers to set the ship straight.<p>

A centaur by the name of Bigleaf, who armed with a mind and bow, proceeded to walk around the deck picking up loose odds and ends: bits of food, unhardened trash, discarded provisions, and mistreated rope. Placing this in a pail which he carried, the centaur took it upon himself to make sure that every inch of the place was clean just before breakfast, just after lunch, and just before he went to sleep. As he cleaned he hummed a made up tune to himself, and while he moved for a dropped piece of fruit, Reepicheep, who was busy tying a bowline to secure a line, noticed the centaur's humming and smiled.

"You would make an exceptional lyricist." The Mouse said.

"Thank you, Reepicheep." Bigleaf replied as he bent over to pick the apple up, "Can't say I've ever written anything down. Haven't the time nor the effort."

Reepicheep nodded, seeing the prospect of writing a book of poetry and orating it for people a waste of valuable time that could be spent doing more productive tasks such as cleaning the deck. "From where do you hail, Bigleaf, if I may ask?"

"You may," The Centaur said, as he moved on, spotting a bit of twine that was in a knot. He did the poor rope a kindness and untied it, but only to tie it in a simple square knot. He began this by crossing both ends of the twine over, producing a small 'x' shape.

"I come from a place known as Mullengrave." Bigleaf continued, "I trust you have heard of Fairbanks?"

"Ah yes, the lawyer." Reepicheep said nodding his head and noticing that The Centaur wanted him to watch the simple knot tying demonstration.

"Yes," Bigleaf replied as he tucked one end through the newly formed loop, displaying it for The Mouse to see, "he was the local celebrity. I lived just up the river from him and I can tell you he was the nicest fellow I knew."

Bigleaf then crossed the two ends of the twine together again but in the opposite way as before and repeated the tucking once again. He displayed the finished knot to The Mouse and placed it in the pail.

"How did you learn to tie it?" Reepicheep asked.

Bigleaf smiled simply and laughed. "The square knot, my dear Reepicheep, is the first knot a sailor learns."

"Were you a sailor before this?" The Mouse asked.

"No," Bigleaf said, "but my father was."

The Centaur continued on his way to a discarded apple core. He picked it up, sneered at it for a second and placed it in the pail.

"The nerve of these brutish people." He said, "To think that His Majesty hired them to run a ship as grand as this is beyond me."

"Perhaps they have docility in other ways besides cleanliness." Reepicheep replied, noticing that a pomegranate was already beginning to spoil as Cassius walked past as if it were as commonplace as grass. The Mouse nonchalantly jumped to the deck and walked over to the spoiled fruit, seeing black splotches cover the surface like leprosy. Cassius meanwhile, was attending to the business of romancing Eris, the merchant's daughter, who was a foot away tending to the washing of dishes for dinner.

Smiling and admiring her beauty in a Shakespearean sort of way, Cassius extended his hand to her. "A woman such as yourself deserves better than to wash and to clean."

"Why Cassius," she said, blushing, cheeks redder than a cherry, "you're such a gentleman."

"He may be a gentleman my dear," Reepicheep replied, who was behind Cassius still near the pomegranate, "but he is myopic and versed in lethargies."

Cassius laughed and shook his head, "Eris, that isn't true."

"Oh," Eris said, "then tell me the truth then."

Cassius could not think of a proper answer, one that was befitting the image that he carried so well for himself. Instead he turned to Reepicheep and asked a straightforward question. "Where is your proof?"

"To quote a lawyer," The Mouse replied, in a matter-of-fact sort of way, "'the proof is about you'. Take for example, your negligence for that spoiled pomegranate here. I am not a disciplinarian but I do approve of a clean ship. Perhaps you saw it and thought 'someone else should, and will, pick it up', for it is natural to think that. You were busy doing other things, your mind was occupied and drifting into other details which the pomegranate has no existence in. In short, you overlooked it, but you also overlooked the fact that you are a fisherman's son and as the ben of a fisherman you have forgotten the first rule all fishermen learn."

"What," Cassius said with a condescending smile and a small laugh, "pray tell, is that?"

"Why, that all things are bait!" Reepicheep answered excitedly as he pulled out his blade and stuck the tip in the pomegranate, letting the juices spill and run down the splotched face of it. "This may be a spoiled pomegranate, but it is not a useless pomegranate."

"There aren't any fish in these parts." Cassius replied, "We're in deep water now. Even if there were fish, it would take hours, possibly days before we'd catch anything."

"Ah, but I didn't say fish, now did I?"

Cassius looked back towards Eris, and noticed that she resumed her work with the dishes. He walked over to her thinking on how wonderful it would be to caress her body and to inhale the incense that she wore on her hair to cover up the embedded smell of fresh wool and silk. He would have enjoyed to have imagined her in a beautiful dress, one that was adorned with white lilies with a green sash round the waist. He pictured a life, a love, two things that harmoniously packaged into one person.

Reepicheep watched as Cassius traversed the waters of love and thought back to a time when he was in such a state and remembered something that someone once told him. "'True love is something that only people who have loved really understand. For they have loved, pained, and lost with someone, for someone, and to them, to go the distance of the mile and then some is miraculous in nature and beautiful in life. When two people are dedicated to each other to the point where even death itself is a bigot, then you know it is real.'- Mathias Trufflehunter."

Eris turned and saw the fisherman stand there with a grin on his face. "So," she said, "come to prove a rodent wrong?"

"I have." Cassius replied.

"You shall have to do more than present flowery words and poetics Mister Cassius," Reepicheep said, "You shall have to prove your honorability to me, which is something that no one has ever, or will ever, do."

"Why is that?" Cassius asked.

"Because," Reepicheep said, removing his blade from the pomegranate, guiding the fruit with the tip of the blade as he walked towards him, "no one knows what Honor is."

"Isn't that giving your life for someone else?" Cassius asked.

"No, that would be True Love, Martyrdom, or Brotherhood, depending on the context." The Mouse answered as he stopped and sheathed his weapon. Reepicheep then turned, walked a few feet back to give Cassius room to contemplate his next move. He was about to be schooled by a trained philosopher.

"Honor is more than that." Reepicheep said, quoting himself, knowing it, and realizing the egotism in this, retained his smile. For he remembered the exact line, the page, and the dedication he placed at the top of his unpublished biography and part theological work, 'The Door to My House'. The Mouse turned back towards Cassius and smiled sincerely, figuring that whatever sin he was committing it could easily be passable as a necessary measure for understanding some sort of truth.

He continued: "Honor means realizing when to die and when to live. Understanding how to be cordial and how to be assertive. Seeing truth as just and murder as evil yet wars are claimed sacred and necessary. Honor is a paradoxical oxymoron which cannot be achieved because we flaw and then we fall. Now we know Love, Peace, Brotherhood, yes, those things are simple, yet never easy. Honor is complicated and never to be simple, which is why we do not understand what it means."

"If no one can understand Honor," Cassius said, "then how can I prove my honorability to you?"

The Mouse smiled at this, "I never said that Honor was one thing or the other but a composition of Virtues and Vices. Show me those Virtues, leave out the Vices, and you may be the first person to live to understand Honor."

Cassius bent down at his knees and picked the spoiled pomegranate up with his hand. Inspecting it and seeing the hole that Reepicheep had made and the juices still spilling and running down the side, the fisherman's son thought to himself how ridiculous that so called first rule of fishing applies to spoiled fruit. Eris moved toward the bow of the ship, carrying the dishes she had cleaned underneath her arm, passing High Father, Bigleaf's sire, who bowed his head.

"Eris," High Father said, "I see you're proving yourself useful."

"Thank you High Father," Eris replied with a smile. "I'll be sure to sew that ceremonial wreath of yours later. At the moment, I know that my father is ill."

"Ill?" The Centaur asked, slightly concerned. "Why you must see to him before we all contract whatever it is he's got!"

"It's just a cold High Father," Eris said, "nothing too serious. Rest, warm water, and a bit of food are all he needs."

The Centaur smiled and bowed his head again once she left, "If rest and sleep and soup is what he needs, then he should be up in a week or less."

"Let us all hope so." She replied and went below deck to tend to the sickly man who sold linens and half loaves of bread.

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><p>When the crew had supped and the day's work had ended, Caspian stood near the railing and faced south with sagely eyes as if he were pondering the meaning of life or the importance of death. He stared at the sea and admired the crests and troughs of the waves that gently caressed and rocked the ship in lullaby.<p>

Cassius meanwhile, sat down near an apple barrel with a quill and pad of paper, writing his attempt at a love poem. "Radiant sun, radiant fair, how you sing sweet songs of air…"

Jeter, a satyr, who was descending below deck for the night, stopped and heard this poor excuse of affection and shook his head. "If you're going to write a poem," he said, "do not sing it. It only makes it less meaningful, but that's just my opinion."

"Yes, well, you can keep your opinion." Cassius replied turning toward him, "I happen to think it just fine."

Jeter sighed and made his way down, thinking how wonderfully happy Cassius' parents are to have rid of him from the house.

Reepicheep, who was meandering around the ship talking with people about the day, made his way over to Cassius curious as to the paper and pen. The Mouse noticed that he continued to write and scratch out furiously as if he were viciously disciplining the paper to do its chores properly. Staying silent so not to disturb him with words, Reepicheep scaled the barrel Cassius was in front and peered over his shoulder to have a look. The paper was an ink blot, a very large one, making reading anything impossible. Cassius turned his pad to a new page and was about to start again when he sighed and began writing something else. After a few lines over reading over his shoulder, Reepicheep shook his head and finally spoke out:

"I am terrible sorry for the disturbance and rudeness of this, but I frankly could not help myself and will not help myself further by saying that you are wrong sir."

Cassius sighed and placed his paper and pen down. "Do you think if I were to jump, would anyone notice?"

"I would." The Mouse answered. "She would too."

"She doesn't even acknowledge my existence, Reepicheep." Cassius said. "You saw her today and how she looked at me."

"If love were easy, then everyone would fall in love and the men would be sires and the women be providers. Alas, love is not so easy."

Cassius nodded and stood from his place. He stretched, yawned, and crossed the deck to ascend down into the quarters. He looked back towards Reepicheep with solemnity in his eyes. "Do you think I will ever be happy?"

The Mouse nodded but said nothing. Instead jumped down from the barrel and scurried over to the pad and paper, making a few revisions to Cassius' letter that was disapproving. When he was finished Reepicheep produced his signature at the bottom and a small post script. Without looking at the paper, the Mouse walked bipedal with paper and pen in paw to Cassius and laid them on the deck in front of his eye level. Cassius turned towards the pad and noticed that the letter was a bit longer, skimming it, the fisherman smiled and grabbed his paper and pad.

"Where did you learn penmanship?" Cassius asked.

"Self taught." Reepicheep answered. "Well, theoretically I had a tutor but she was always too scatterbrained for me. Always going on tangents and she would babble out the history of letters. It was rather...interesting, but at the same time it was painfully dull. So, one day I left mid-lesson and never returned there. My father was furious but my brothers understood."

"Did you know your mother?"

The Mouse shook his head, "Died shortly after I was born, I'm afraid. I was told that she was extremely kind and loving."

"Well, at least you have that comfort." Cassius replied. "I never knew my parents."

"Is Kale not your father?" Reepicheep asked.

Cassius shook his head. "Did you even read it?"

Yes, Reepicheep thought, I most certainly did. I found it appalling that you would consider such a thing. Do you not realize how selfish it is?

"Simply because Kale is not your father does not mean he is a father to you." Reepicheep said. "He loves you sir, most dearly I assure you, and I-"

"It still changes nothing." Cassius said, cutting him off.

"Will you let me finish?!" The Mouse shouted, letting his fur standing on edge as he raised his voice. "You shan't cause your own demise because of simple misreadings of love! I cannot and will not be a witness to it. Do you not understand that if you do so then you shall be damning yourself to a place where I cannot reach you?"

"Who said I wanted you to reach me?" Cassius asked as he continued his long depressed descent into the quarters.

Reepicheep quickly followed him down and beheld a dark swaying room. Cots lined the walls and ropes and supplies hung from a ceiling as if it were your regular consignment shop on 31st Street. A small congregation hovered over a cot to the left of a small room. Eris threw herself over her father, who had only recently drew his final breath. As she cried, those who were there stood silent and bowed their heads in respect. Reepicheep removed his circlet and stood in silence as Cassius ignored the funerary procession and laid on his cot, slowly unsheathing a knife as he placed the paper and pen on his chest. The Mouse watched in earnest, hoping and praying that the fisherman was not going to heinously commit self-murder in the presence of grief. Cassius raised the knife and took a breath of air, fully prepared to go through with it.

Reepicheep shook his head and cried tears. "For goodness sake boy, stop this!"

The congregation of grievers turned towards Cassius and all stood motionless as they simply watched him almost kill himself.

"Please," the Mouse said taking small advances toward him, "do not do this. Think of what you're doing to yourself. You are ending your life. Your life and once you do you will never get it back."

He stopped at the foot of Cassius' cot and placed his left paw on the nearest beam supporting it. He turned towards the group of mourners, searching for a familiar face, finding one in Eris. Without a word or acknowledgement, the girl stood up from her place and walked towards Cassius, having in her eyes a sense of calm sadness.

"Cassius," Eris said crouching down to his eye level, "are you alright?"

"No-" a rough voice answered. Eris, Reepicheep, and the rest turned to find Kale, walking in with a bare chest and an axe in hand. He was one of those brutish characters who rarely bathed and loathed orders. At the moment, he was returning from his work on deck and was prepared to go to war.

"He is not, as you say, alright." Kale said, "In fact, he's very much in the way."

He advanced and carrying the axe with one hand, letting the blade scrape the wooden floor. When he reached Cassius' bed, the man smiled, leaned in, and spat in his face. Cassius said and did nothing.

"You actually thought you could escape me?" Kale asked rather rhetorically. "You thought that your life would be better taken by yourself than by me?"

Cassius nodded. "Any method is better than yours."

Kale paused a moment to laugh. He sat the axe down underneath the cot and took a knee. He then placed a hand on the hilt of his son's knife...

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><p><strong>-Next Chapter-<strong>

_**Chapter IV: Ghost on the Shore- Part I**_


	4. Ghost on the Shore- Part I

**Chapter IV: Ghost on the Shore- Part I**

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><p><em>"Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none." <em>– William Shakespeare

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><p>Mathias Trufflehunter exited George's room without word. As he walked into the living room, he noticed that Hallam had returned to his books, he was just getting to the riveting chapter entitled <em>Jurors of Wolves<em> which was filled with the endless reminder of the literal possibility that the jury faced in court, may be comprised of wolves who had not yet consumed supper. Walking toward the door, The Badger kept his gaze on the floor and the bit of loose dirt that was being kicked around by the wind made by his footsteps. Placing a paw on the door frame, Mathias turned back towards his eldest solemnly with a depressed upside-down smile and water filled eyes.

"Your brother is dying Hallam." Mathias said.

Hallam gave no answer, it was not because he did not want to or that he was a heartless person, it was simply because his father had stated common and extremely obvious knowledge. To appease him and to not sound rude or resentful, the Younger Badger turned from his book, gazed up at his patriarch and stared for a moment or two- entranced in the tear that slowly ran down his father's face, and completely sympathetic for Mathias' movements toward the nearest pen and paper which resided on the table the aspiring lawyer was sitting at.

When Trufflehunter reached his destination he turned towards his son again. "Must you always say nothing when words are required?"

"No," Hallam replied, "however, must you always say something when words are not required? Honestly father, it seems to me that you talk for the sake of talking."

Mathias rolled his eyes and gripped the quill pen gently in his left hand and began to write, holding the paper in place with his left. After his was finished with the letter, he folded it cordially and moved for the door again. This time however, upon reaching the frame, The Badger moved so far as to open the door and into the world which was experiencing a slight rain.

When the small droplets of water kissed the lips of leaves and the ground, there began a sweet song of blue jays and robins, all in synchronization and all in a tune of sweet melancholy. Their voices soared through the air, transcending into The Great Dominion, creating beautiful airas of mourning and hope. Both pieces of grief combined into a song- a masterful piece of music.

Trufflehunter crossed the threshold with his letter in hand. Thinking not of the rain or of the birds, The Badger noticed nothing but two things: the small child in the bedroom and the failed aegis who currently resided in a boat.

_He told me that he would come. _The Badger thought with a slight storm in his head as he began walking on two legs in the rain, letting the wet ground and dead leaves soothe his troubled feet.

_To add insult to injury- he promised George, it was a witness to it! He promised George that he would come see him before leaving and said and I quote, 'to never gallivant into the wilderness without having formalities straight first.' I honestly do not know what he considers a formality but to me, promising to deliver a dying child the only thing he has ever asked for you is prioritized before a fucking boat._

Mathias stopped and looked around, seeing no solace in the dead bark and slowly returning buds of spring. The wind chased the clouds like schoolchildren in a playground, aimlessly wandering and wondering with glowing the secure world of which they knew. The Badger looked at his letter and saw a large splotch of water had appeared in the middle, causing the ink to run and bleed through. He further examined it, seeing that even though the words were smeared it was still somewhat legible. He read it through once and when he was satisfied, continued onward toward Cair Paravel en-route to ask a griffin, a hippogriff, a bird or other creature of flight to make the delivery for him.

Passing a large oak with a sizeable trunk, The Badger heard the sound of fast approaching wings and the rustling of leaves almost as if August, the Dauphin of the Great Dominion, was busy hunting in his sowing pattern. Looking up toward the canopy however, Trufflehunter did not see the reaping hawk, but rather a Great Grey Owl preached on a low hanging borough of a pine tree. Trufflehunter noticed that this bird was a large one with stone and ivory feathers and beautiful halcyon eyes and for a moment stared in appreciation and slight fear. Mathias slowly took a step away, only to cause the owl to have interest and lean out to obtain a better view.

"No need to run my friend." The owl said in a slight Russian accent. "You are safe here."

"Oh really," The Badger replied not necessarily believing it, "and why should I believe you?"

The owl laughed and took flight, swooping down from its perch and landing in front of Trufflehunter with a cordial bow of the wings and head.

"Because," The owl answered as he slowly stood erect, "you are a friend of King Kashmir, and those who befriend him have my service."

"If I may be so kind to ask," Trufflehunter said, looking the bird over once more and sensing the possibility of attack to be relatively low. "How do you know of this?"

"Why," The bird replied, "I am Kashmir's brother! Alexander is my name, surely he has told you of me."

Mathias shook his head and looked at his letter again, noticing that the paper was beginning to feel weighted.

_Perhaps, _The Badger thought, _there is a reason to why I have never heard of you. Did you have something to do with the coup d'état or the coup de grâce?_

Alexander, who was perplexed at the pause in thought and conversation, waved a wing in front of Mathias to make sure that he was still grounded in reality.

"Hello?" He said, while waving, "Are you alright?"

The Badger blinked a moment and quickly shook his head. "Yes- I am fine. A bit disoriented, but fine."

"Perhaps I can reorient you," Alexander said, "where are you bound?"

"To Cair Paravel," Mathias answered, not necessarily believing the fact that he was sharing information with someone he did not inherently trust. "I am off to deliver a message to a good friend who is at sea."

"Reepicheep, you mean?" Alexander asked, looking at Mathias Trufflehunter with a befuddled eye and turn to the head, believing The Badger to be in need of full time assistance or put out of his misery.

If one were to say that Mathias Julian Trufflehunter were, to put it simply, prone to panic, then you would stating the understatement of the century. His eyes grew larger than his head and his mouth stood agape like a massive cave and all one had to do to find whatever it was they were seeking was to wake it from its slumber and bring along a parrot, a psychopath with a staff, and a rug.

"Alright bird," Mathias said, "you are starting to make me nervous and believe me when I get nervous, I become unbearably angry and when I become unbearably angry well, I," he paused, his brain was trying to come up with a word that was a good word to lie with ,"I-I- you don't want to know what happens next!"

Alexander stared at him for a moment and laughed hysterically, his feather were almost levitating off his body and his lungs became inflamed due to the lack of pure air. It was so hilarious to him, the owl keeled over and rolled in the dirt for a moment.

Trufflehunter meanwhile, rolled his eyes. "Well, while you're laughing uncontrollably, I'll see myself away. Good day and for the Lion's sake, choke on a large throat sized rock you insufferable idiot."

The Badger walked onward, trying to think of the reason behind it all. For a moment he stopped and thought:

_Use your brain. Out of all the things to ignore, this what you choose? He knows something about you, about your friends, yes there is a plethora of suspicion about him but yet, I cannot escape the hope of a small truth- he called Kashmir a King- no one has called him that in years- not even Kashmir himself. So there must be some truth to his words. Only time and a single question will tell._

"How," Trufflehunter said, "do you know this?"

Alexander breathed air and when his laughter subsided into chuckling he stood and when chuckling diminished into a smile at the thought, he looked up at the sky and spoke.

"You mean about you and your friend, yes?" He said, showing off his Russian accent without shame. "I know these things because Kashmir tells me, he may not speak of me much because for a time, I secretly wanted to kill him. He proved to be the better man in that situation."

He turned towards The Badger with a sincere smile, almost as if he wanted to believe that he was talking to his brother before 'that situation' had occurred, back when they were close and when the sky was blue and winter was between spring and autumn- when the world made sense about new ideas that were considered crazy and proved the faults of accepted notions. It was something to be reminiscent and longing of and it was the world of which Alexander Zolnerowich was the last member of.

"Even though you do not know me," Alexander continued, "I know a great deal about you. I know that the letter you have in paws for instance, is about George is it not?"

Trufflehunter nodded but said nothing and he felt compelled to hand the letter to him to prove his assumption right, instead, he asked the question he was saving for Regent Simon.

"Would you be willing to deliver this to Reepicheep?"

Alexander smiled as if he were waiting on the question to begin with and bowed cordially. "It shall be a pleasure moi droog, They sailed east and straight?"

"Last I saw they did, they may have changed course however," The Badger said. "If you wish, I am sure someone will be able to accompany you."

"Why can't you?" The owl asked, letting out a sound that was a mixture between a laugh and a huff.

"I have to take care of George, which why you know so much about me is still very much a mystery." Trufflehunter said. He continued his walk, and at this point, had faith in this bird enough that he wouldn't be the type who would stab you in the back in the literal sense. Regardless of The Badger's thoughts however, Alexander followed not necessarily caring that he was walking and that his walk resembled something of a penguin.

"Perhaps," Alexander said, "I can elaborate during the journey eastward…"

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><p><strong>-Next Chapter-<strong>

_**Chapter V: She Lit a Fire**_


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